


what makes life so sweet

by imaginarypasta



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarypasta/pseuds/imaginarypasta
Summary: Danny's accident
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	what makes life so sweet

Danny’s earliest memory was of looking through the glass-domed observatory that sat on the flat top of the Fentons’ condo at thousands of tiny, faraway stars. They were visible only because the lights of Amity had all been stolen by his parents for their latest failure at their magnum opus; they’d killed the giant shining FentonWorks sign boldly advertising their house and business, the only thing for miles still working thanks to their backup generator, just so their kids could see the deep trench of stars dug into the sky.

It’s what his mind would fly to now, had he the ability to think. The memories would come back later in waves; the crystal green lights speckling a blackened void one might call a sky mirrored that night from childhood so perfectly Danny would have difficulty differentiating them from each other if it weren’t for the exotic colors of the later memory. He was so close to them he could touch them if he wanted, but his body was frozen in place. They’d burned cold — that was wrong, he later realized, they siphoned what little heat remained stuck to him. It wasn’t malice that guided their actions — he couldn’t even be sure it was intention. It was just pure ignorance, thinking no creature besides them could feel the pain of dying.

In any other situation, they’d be beautiful, but with needles of pain streaking through his body, he hardly had time to consider it. The pain would be gone later on, impossible to even imagine, but sometimes a sudden, sharp stream of electricity would swim through his body, reminding him of his death.

When he’d finally escaped from the agonizing state of nothingness, his mind came back to him. For a moment, he felt nothing, just the echo of pain that burned both hot and cold remained, ghosting over his soul and skin.

His memories of childhood, as well as those of death, were hazy, memories of another being carelessly jammed into his mind so they’d clank into a newer, crisper perception of the world. The new view was disorienting, to put it mildly; it made every sensation that much more intense, and he was so unable to distinguish between the stimuli, a cloud was forced over his mind. It wasn’t transparent like a memory faded by time and human amnesia, just covered by a misty fog of inexperience and confusion.

As his feet hit the floor, pins and needles rushed his body and a tidal wave of nausea washed over him. He could feel legs that were not his own stumbling for a few steps before buckling under his weight and a stranger’s nose hit hard on the ground. And his friends were there, pulling him from the floor, pressing their hands on his neck and chest, crying out and calling his name and cursing something nasty. He could feel hot, salty drops hit his face, but his limbs turned to lead — not that it mattered much, since he slipped from consciousness before he could think anything concrete.

**Author's Note:**

> "That it will never come again / Is what makes life so sweet." Emily Dickinson.


End file.
